


in over your head

by TheoMiller



Category: Fantastic Four (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Criminals, Eventual Relationships, Hostage Situations, Mad Science, Organized Crime
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-23
Updated: 2015-11-23
Packaged: 2018-05-02 23:44:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5268356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheoMiller/pseuds/TheoMiller
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The precise moment when Ben Grimm, accidental member of a crime syndicate, realizes he's in over his head. It's kind of a cumulative thing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	in over your head

**Author's Note:**

> am i going to finish this? WHO KNOWS! Certainly not me! if i do, though, please rest assured, i will avoid skeevy stockholm syndrome things. because reed is, in fact, a hostage. is he the world's worst hostage? yes. yes he is. *shakes reed's shoulder* wHY ARE YOU LIKE THIS?

In Ben's defense, he really needs the money.

He doesn't think that'll work well at trial. And there's bound to be a trial. Because he's pretty sure the _private security_ gig he picked up is actually working for a goddamn arms dealing ring, or drug cartel, or – okay, listen, all he knows is that a lot of shady-looking people come in and out of this place, with, like, briefcases.

And he's not an idiot, okay, he _knows_ this is shady as hell, he knew when he took the job, he just. He just really, really needs the money. His ma's scrap yard is going under, 'cause his brother's in prison after his temper got him in more trouble, and he was the best worker they had. Especially since it also appeared his brother had been, ah, _supplementing_ their supply of car parts by working with a chop shop.

So. When this inevitably goes all to hell, he's just gonna tell the cops that he had no idea, and try to keep his hands clean of whatever _this_ is.

Which is exactly when that goes out the goddamn window.

One of his, ah, _coworkers_ pulls up in his company car, a gigantic black SUV with nearly-illegal tint, with the reason Ben is completely, totally screwed. It's a big reason.

Namely a guy with a bag over his head.

"Jesus," Ben says, and his coworker, a guy who makes Ben – who is broad-shouldered and muscled, and if not particularly _tall_ – look like he's a twelve year old, snarls at him to shut up and stop gawking.

"Open the door," Val snarls at him, and shoves the _freaking kidnapping victim_ forward with the barrel of his pistol. The guy, whoever the poor bastard is, stumbles forward, nearly tripping over his own feet. He's got his hands zip-tied behind his back.

Ben opens the door, and is fully aware that this makes him an accomplice.

"This is entirely unreasonable," the kidnappee says. "I am hardly a physical threat—would you— _ow_!"

The latter is because Val _slammed him into the warehouse wall_. "I have had it up to here with you running your mouth, kid," he snarls, jamming the barrel of his gun against the base of the guy's skull.

"Are you brain dead?!" Victor von Doom – Ben's boss – shouts from too close to Ben's ear. He's got a spooky habit of just appearing out of nowhere, hopefully on account of being incredibly light on his feet, and not secretly capable of teleporting.

Ben startles, but the rage isn't directed at him, but at Val. Ben just does his best to be invisible while von Doom rages.

"You don't have the safety on, you absolute idiot, and the brain you are currently threatening is one of the foremost minds of the millennium. I know three hundred of you couldn't rustle up enough firing neurons to power a single goddamn brain cell, but let me see if I can get this through your thick skull. You are entirely expendable. _He_ is not! You are hired muscle and nothing more, and if you risk my plans for the sake of your bullshit egotistical macho grandstanding again, I'll kill you with my bare hands. Do you understand?"

Val shoves himself away from the guy – who falls backwards, unable to stop himself with his hands tied together – and scowls. "Yes, sir," he grits out.

Ben pulls the guy to his feet, and Victor tugs the bag off his head, and – oh, shit. The guy's adorable. No wonder Val covered his face, it had to be impossible to kidnap a guy who looked like a stray puppy who can't quite figure out why he's being kicked by people. His glasses are crooked on his face, and Ben reaches out to correct them without thinking.

"Sorry about the savage," Victor tells the kidnapee, with a cold, albeit sparing, glance at Val. "You. New guy. Name."

It takes Ben a second to realize Victor means him, especially since Victor doesn't even look at him. "Oh. Me. I'm Ben Grimm."

"All right, Grimm. I'm going to give you the smallest chance to make yourself useful, and possibly have a future in this organization. Take Dr. Richards inside. I'll be in to show him to the lab shortly."

Ben blinks, glances at Victor's victim, and then nods. He's pretty sure resigning, at this point, would get him killed. "Do you want me to – uh, cut him loose?"

"Yes, of course," says Victor, "he's hardly going to _escape_."

It's a warehouse in the middle of the mountains, and—yeah, okay, Ben will give him this one, escape really isn't an option. So he digs his pocket knife out and cuts the zip ties as carefully as he can, and winces at the red line that's left on Dr. Richards' wrists from the tie.

"Wait. I know you," the guy – who looks a little young to have a doctorate – says. "You're Victor von Doom," he continues, in a wondering sort of tone. "I remember you from your thesis defense. It was very promising."

Doom's lip curled. "It was rejected."

"Yes, the board is very skeptical about the translation of matter across space, I myself had to write a thesis on energy containment instead, which was not exactly ideal, but—"

Ben recognizes the signs of coming danger, after growing up with his brother and his temper, so he steers Dr. Richards away before he can rub any lemon juice in whatever paper cut he's just peeled back the band-aid on. The warehouse door closes, and Ben hears a muffled gunshot.

He can't help the way his hand tightens on Dr. Richards' shoulder. "Sorry," he says, when he realizes. "Are you—did he hurt you?"

"I'm alive," says the doctor. He glances over his shoulder. "I don't think that guy is, though."

Ben has to bite his lip. This heavy weight in his chest is adrenaline. He's freaked out because someone was just murdered ten feet from him, nothing to do with the innocent, Bambi-looking kidnapped scientist he's somehow just become Jailer-In-Chief to. He's _not_ feeling guilty. Men who feel guilty do crazy things, like turn themselves in and get murdered before they go to trial.

"Grimm," says Doom, as he strides into the warehouse as calmly as a guy who hadn't totally shot someone a moment ago. He's got blood spatter on his white button down shirt. Ben averts his eyes. "Get Dr. Richards a drink," he orders.

He glances to where Victor is gesturing, and – that's a wet bar. There's a wet bar in the secret mountain lair. Of course there is.

The mini-fridge set into the bar is full of a wide variety of drinks. He hesitates, and then turns around. "Dr. Richards," he says.

Victor deigns to actually look at him at the interruption. His eyes are narrowed. Ben meets them coolly and continues: "What would you like to drink? It looks like – " – _don't say Mr. von Doom, don't mention his title, he wants a doctorate –_ "—Victor has a little of everything."

"Ginger ale," says Dr. Richards, looking a little bemused.

 _Trust me_ , Ben wants to say, _I'm aware of how absolutely, ridiculously out of control my life has become in the last five minutes_. But Dr. Richards turns back to Victor with the same, faintly bemused look, and it occurs to Ben that mildly puzzled may be the man's default expression.

"What are you working on here?" he hears Dr. Richards ask, as he scoops ice into a tumbler and tries to look like he's not listening.

"The future."

Oh, yeah. Ben is so very, very screwed.


End file.
